Rude Awakening
You can call me Humpty.
Shattered and helpless. Puzzled, to make me whole again like a jigsaw.
Dumpty.
Like the waste in a lorry, I’ve been hoisted to premature heights then left to crash to the bare, crude earth from which I came. Abandoned in a heap to lick my abrasions and bones. My soul has bled out my red yolk and exhausted the last pint of my energy. My heart; ripped and shredded, struggles to keep the faintest beat.
Like an abstract painter, I pursued to splatter my own merry perceptions all over this cruel reality called life. Attempting a kaleidoscope of colour, which I perceived as pleasant and welcoming in the eyes of all. Carefree brush strokes of gold and orange like the perfect sunset; streaks of greens in every shade like Mother Nature’s garden. Covering the canvas with every colour resembling beauty, ambience and platonic love. Only to have my canvas smudged. Invaded and inundated with greys and blacks of human nature’s insanity.
Silly, naïve me. Agreeing to perceive only the best in them. Maybe I refused to set free my embryonic opinions of life; bestowing trust and forgiveness like some sort of charity. A self-inflicted trap. For heartbreak.
I look normal, but very few discern my disfigured outer presence. Although my outward appearance is a mere mirrored image of my scarred inner being. My mouth is now void of teeth, yet they keep kicking. I’d forgive you if you mistook me for a porcupine, as these knives have replaced the skin on my back relinquishing excruciating pain. An eternity of pain, which formed an unwanted marriage, as I morphed with age.
Growing in years but slumping inevitably in posture, as age offered no reprieve. Deeper and deeper into the depths of anguish did I become rooted. Physical anguish anchored my chain of mental fragility, sinking me to the cold, lonely bottom. And there I lay, lifeless. Already dead inside, destined for my mortal end.
But lying inanimate, waiting for death’s final sting, I was struck by a thunderbolt. Of life. Of death. I couldn’t tell. An incisive feeling, cutting through my entire being. Yet this feeling rendered a new revelation. Transmitting a new reality to the eyes of my conscience. Me.
Grabbing me, lifting me to my feet. I’m still slumped. It yanks me erect to fix my gaze. Face to face with myself; in the form of my destined self. Showing me my inner strength, my resolve, my inner fight. These attributes which I’ve used for painting such serene pictures of life, to save others; escaped me in my time of dilemma.
And now this feeling, this epiphany; revealed to me the naked truth. That the pain which consumed me for my eternity, is not only imposed but personal. Battling humanity, while abandoning the inner self only fuels for a sad, premature death.
The battle of inner demons is on. The quest for the true definition of me is on. My salvation imperative; my resurrection awaits.
